Reaching for notes and tones, bordering always on
edges of night, completely loving how they take
mind and intellect away.
Rushing into full mortal stances while writing a
simple easy way to bring us all into rhyming the
measures of time.
Colors mixing and matching as one, taking notes
rapidly into the densest parts of intellect where
pockets of rhythms are turned inside out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem